Chocolate Chip Cookies and Scut Work
by RoadRunnerLookingatClouds
Summary: Elaine Robinson was finally a surgical intern at Seattle Grace. The girl from St. Cloud, the cheerleader, blonde hair and a nervous stammer. She was a surgical intern. She was Alex Karev's surgical intern. Alex made a point of ensuring his intern's that he doesn't like them. Elaine was the only one that believed him. But maybe he didn't want her to. Vaguely post mid season 6.
1. Chapter 1

**Re-uploading with a few tweaks from my amazing Beta.**

It's July 1st.

That's a special day if you ever want to be a surgeon. It's the first day that new surgical interns start at Seattle Grace Hospital. The infamous Seattle Grace Hospital, home of _Derek Shepherd_ the only neurosurgeon that mattered –where the godlike plastic surgeon Mark Sloane was, and the war veteran trauma magician, Owen Hunt, but most importantly where I, Elaine Robinson, was finally going to be an intern. An undergraduate degree majoring in community health at St. Cloud, outstanding MCATs, a four-year stint at the University of Minnesota Medical School, and a 38-hour bus and train trip later, I was finally at Seattle Grace Hospital. Elaine Robinson – medical school graduate, and surgical intern. There were six of us. Six hopefuls. Six supposedly bright young minds. Six people who were living their wildest dreams. Six friends – I hoped; but in reality I would find six competitors, all vying for the attention of the residents, the attending's and the Chief.

Lot's of people back home asked: Why bother going to Seattle Grace? Why not come back home to St. Cloud and do my residency at St. Cloud Hospital? Why put pressure on myself, and possibly fail abroad? That was the extent of my support system. No one had assumed that the cheerleader from St. Cloud would ever become a doctor. Let alone travel cross-country, alone, to join the revered Seattle Grace program, which was churning out some of the most promising young surgeons in the country. But I'd done it just to spite everyone.

My older sister Mary Jane had always dreamed of running away to Hawaii when she was little. It just seemed better to her than dreary old Minnesota. So, when she'd graduated high school, valedictorian, she did. She left St. Cloud and began her trek cross-country to somehow get to Hawaii – she only got as far as Seattle. She'd arrived in Seattle that night, courtesy of a crowded bus. Dragging her suitcase, Mary Jane had told me this was when she considered turning around and coming back home to be a teacher. That's when she walked past this crowded Irish pub. There was raucous noise, lots of drinking and plenty of bad dancing going on. Mary Jane had told me that something tangible, yet unseen had told her to go in there, have a drink, and start the rest of her life. So she did – inside there had been a cute Irish bartender, his name was Marcus.

Mary Jane and Marcus had been together from that moment onwards – four years later, they got married. Now they live in a nice apartment in the city, and I joined them a week ago. When I'd decided to leave Minnesota as far behind as I could, Seattle Grace had been my first thought – I had somewhere to live, it was far away, it was a great hospital – that was far away.

"Intern! Hey Intern!" a gravely voice called from behind me. I'd been in the middle of organizing paperwork for my resident – Dr. Alex Karev – at the Pit. I turned around and there he was.

"Yes Dr. Karev?" I asked, carefully closing the folder of Rhiannon Spencer (7-years old, reported to the Pit last night with persistent thick nasal discharge, nasal congestion, cough, and intermittent low-grade fever).

Karev beckoned me. "It's your lucky day, Intern," he mumbled as I came closer and we began walking. Dr. Karev didn't look at me but continued to storm through the hospital – leading me away from the Pit.

"Um, why is it my lucky day, besides being my first day?" I asked, drawing my white coat closer around me, a hesitant smile on my face. However Dr. Karev took no notice and kept walking, leaving me to catch up.

This wasn't the first strange thing to happen today. I'd woken up early, but to the smell of pancakes. Mary Jane had made pancakes; and she didn't usually cook unless someone was dying.

"MJ?" I called out hesitantly into the kitchen, and found her looking into the fridge. She looked at me and smiled widely.

"Good morning El. Happy first day of the rest of your life, you doctor you." She closed the fridge, and came over and squeezed me tightly.

I sighed with relief. "Thanks MJ, but you didn't need to worry with the breakfast really. I could've had coffee…" I mumbled, sitting down at their quaint breakfast table. She came and wrapped her arms around my shoulders in another affectionate embrace.

"No. My baby sister is starting off as a doctor with a full stomach."

That was the first strange thing. The second was that when I arrived at the hospital. I had been sitting quietly in the waiting room, waiting to be collected by my resident, or someone, when a slightly Hispanic doctor with bright red lips and a big smile came over and sat down beside me.

"Sweetie, what are you doing out here? You're an intern aren't you?" she asked. She wasn't condescending, and sounded genuinely concerned.

"Um, yeah" I answered, stuffing the _Cosmopolitan _magazine back into my bag. She smiled and gestured to some big double doors. "Move your ass honey, you should be in the locker room. You don't get 'collected' you meet your resident like a grown up."

My eyes widened and I quickly stood up. "I thought… um… oh shit"

The doctor smiled again. "Go down the hall past three doors and a corridor, and another two doors, but the third on the left, that's your intern locker room honey. Get a coat on, and follow the herd to the Pit"

I just nodded and bolted, but stopped short of the doors and turned around to see the doctor grinning at me.

"Thanks um… Dr…?" I called out, but faltered.

She waved at me. "Dr. Torres, now go." So I left.

A hundred yard dash and a white coat later I was one among about thirty interns. Chief of Surgery, Owen Hunt stood in front of us talking about what it took to be a surgical intern, what Seattle Grace stood for, what we would learn, who we would become and most importantly, who we needed to pay attention to. He took us on a small tour of the hospital, ending outside a door marked 'Resident Lounge – Interns WAIT OUTSIDE'.

He rapped his fist on the door and smiled. "Have fun kids," he said, and then he left. The door suddenly opened, and we were face with a short black woman with a serious expression,

"And what do you want?" she asked, pursing her lips at us. Someone mumbled something and she raised her eyebrows, "You're interns huh? I'd have never guessed. I know you're interns. Now back up. Make way for your residents. You know who you're assigned to don't you?" No one answered that, so she swatted us out of the way and called back into the lounge, "Grey, Grey, Yang, Karev, Kepner and Avery – we have interns, let's move". The third surprise came streaming out of the door next - a lady with long blonde hair, another with chestnut brown hair and a worried expression, a woman with long black curly hair and a scowl, a tall guy with five o'clock shadow, a small lady with auburn hair, and trailing very closely behind another tall guy with dark skin and bright blue eyes. The guy with the budding beard collected a clipboard of the short lady who had answered the door and looked at it disdainfully.

"Albert, Frasier, Hunter, Jones, McGrath and Robinson – move it or loose it" and with that he turned and stormed down the corridor, the six of us dashing after him.

We'd followed him back to the Pit. It was there he'd introduced himself.

"I'm Dr. Karev. I don't have a first name that you get to know. You all suck as far as I'm concerned. You suck until I say you don't. You're interns, you don't have brains, or opinions – you follow instructions." He said this without looking at us. He was grabbing a stack of folders from some nurses. After he'd glanced through these he began pointing and distributing folders.

"You are?" He pointed to a girl with glasses and curly hair.

She grinned. "I'm Hannah," she said reaching for the folder, which Dr. Karev snatched back, scowling,

"Who?"

Hannah frowned and then realization struck. "Oh, Albert" she replied reaching for the folder again. This time Dr. Karev handed it to her.

"Right, you are with Katy Ewing, bed 5 – she is in for observation for a few hours. She is anaphylactic, came in with a bee sting. IV's are taken care of. Watch her and page someone if something happens – go" Hannah took the folder and slowly walked off. Dr. Karev turned to a tall guy to my left. He was super tall, he should've been a basketball player, but apparently he was an intern –

"Sasquatch – you are?" Sasquatch nearly glowered at Dr. Karev. "Sam Hunter" he spat out.

Karev smirked, and thrust a folder to him. "You're going to go and get the labs for Annabel Beth - she is 18 months old, and is an unhappy baby – get the labs and find Dr. Robbins. She is waiting in Room 212. Go."

Sam bit back what I guess was a thousand curses and stormed off in the direction of the laboratory.

Dr. Karev pointed to me, or at least I thought he did. "You with the red hair."

I nearly replied with disbelief – I had blonde hair – when a voice mumbled, Anne Jones" I twirled around and saw a girl with frizzy red hair and freckles just as a folder was handed to her.

"Jacob Simons. He is two and a half and headed for a HRCT scan. He has reoccurring pneumonia, but this is something new. You will go and watch the scan and bring it back to me – clear. Go."

Anne turned abruptly, and nearly ran into a wall. She righted herself and ran down a hallway. There were three people left and one folder. This was bad news. Dr. Karev pointed two fingers at the guy and girl standing to my right, "Names?"

"Nathan Frasier," he replied.

"Louise McGrath," she replied.

Dr. Karev nodded. "You two are with me. We are going to go and talk to the family of Georgie Marie – she is twelve, and we've diagnosed scoliosis – I need to go and talk to the family. You will be quite and listen."

They both nodded. Dr. Karev then looked at me, "And you, Blondie – you've scored the Pit. You will update my other charts until you are collected. It is called scut work – interns do plenty of it, so get used to it. You two – lets move."

And with that, Dr. Karev, Nathan and Louise began walking away.

"Um, Elaine Robinson by the way!" I called out.

And that was the fourth strange thing that had happened. I had been abandoned within an hour of my first day. I had a resident who didn't even want to know my name. And on top of that, I was doing scut work, paperwork, for people I didn't even get to meet. And that was how I spent the first three hours of my shift. Writing down temperatures, urine outputs, pulse rates, and blood counts.

Dr. Karev stopped abruptly before a curtain to a bed in the ER and turned around to face me. He wasn't scowling, so I assumed I wasn't in trouble.

"Robinson. This is a test. You better be ready," he said, and then he opened the curtain. There was a young boy lying on the bed, his face scrunched in pain. His mother stood at his bedside, talking angrily into her phone. "Adam, I swear to god, you leave that meeting and come to the damn hospital, now. Your son is sick and he's…" She saw Dr. Karev and I. "Now!" She hung up the phone. "I'm so sorry Dr. Karev. Are we ready for the next step?"

Dr. Karev nodded and walked to the end of the bed, and beckoned me over. "Mrs. Nowell, this is my intern, Dr. Robinson, and with your consent, I'd like Dr. Robinson to help out," he said.

Mrs. Nowell nodded and Dr. Karev turned to me – "Intern, ready?"

I nodded as I took the chart from Dr. Karev.

"Ok. This is James. He's seven years old and was admitted to the emergency department this morning after a complaint of abdominal pain that started yesterday after breakfast. James vomited after lunch, and going to the bathroom didn't help the pain, did it James?" James nodded. Dr. Karev kept going, "Mrs. Nowell told us that James didn't eat dinner, or sleep well, so, she brought him to us this morning. While he's been here, the pain has gotten worse, moving to the lower quadrant of the abdomen, he's been sick again and it hurts to walk or cough. We've just completed some…" Dr. Karev didn't get the chance to finish - I knew the answer.

"Acute appendicitis." I interrupted. It was loud and squeaky – typical of me being excited. Dr. Karev looked at me and smiled.

"Good work Robinson. You might actually be a doctor. Would you like to tell Mrs. Nowell what the procedure is for acute appendicitis?"

My eyes widened and my jaw dropped. "Um, sure. Thank-you Dr. Karev" I stammered as I faced James' mom.


	2. Chapter 2

Half an hour later I was scrubbing in with Dr. Karev.

"Now, Intern. You will be watching, and maybe assisting. This is an appendectomy, and I've seen interns screw these up. So you will watch, and maybe assist, got it?"

I nodded and continued scrubbing in, secretly dreading what was waiting for me out in the OR. All of Dr. Karev's interns were watching from the gallery, as was the Chief. Dr. Webber. He wanted to see the first intern of the year go into the OR.

"You excited?" he questioned, not looking up from his own hands.

I tried to stammer out a reply but stopped. I was nervous. I stammered when I was nervous. I'd been stammering and 'umming' all day.

"Right. But first you should know, I do not like you. That is not why you are here. The other two annoyed me. And you were the easiest one to find. That is why you are here. Proximity. Not talent, charm or looks," Dr. Karev finished.

I felt deflated, like any pride I'd ever felt had disappeared. I was worthless. The medical equivalent of a booty call, I'd been available. I nodded to Dr. Karev as I followed him into the OR.

We'd been in the OR for half an hour, and Dr. Karev was halfway through the procedure. He had been quietly been talking me through what he was doing, his voice soft and husky. He'd made the incision over McBurney's point, opened the layers of the abdominal wall, entered the peritoneum and identified, mobilized and litigated the appendix when he spoke directly to me, and not at me.

"Intern, you're up. You're stitching up the abdominal wall".

I looked up at Dr. Karev, with what I assumed was fear in my eyes. "Um, sure, ok, sure."

Dr. Karev raised a brow. "What was that? Do you want to close, or not?"

I nodded my head vigorously, avoiding the opportunity to make a stammering idiot of myself again. He gestured for me to move closer and handed me the clamp, a needle with the suture silk already prepped. Three instruments - to fix a, small human's insides. This was what being a surgeon was. I was going to become a surgeon – well half a surgeon. I was just closing, but still. I wanted to capture this moment forever in my memory. I looked up at the gallery. Five interns. The Chief. I looked around the room - the anesthesiologist, a lovely nurse and Dr. Karev.

They were all waiting for me to be a surgeon, so I took the needle and I began to stitch up James.

An hour later I was sitting in the cafeteria, by myself, picking at a chocolate chip cookie.

Straight after surgery and a successful closure, James was being taken to his room to start on intravenous fluid, and Dr. Karev and I were left alone in the scrub room.

"Um, thank-you Dr. Karev for, um letting me, assist today" I mumbled while I took off my gloves and mask.

Dr. Karev nodded from where he was washing his hands. "Intern. Why do you say 'um' so much? You sound like a Valley Girl on spring break".

When I was younger, I had a profuse stutter. It was ridiculous; I was 'E-e-e-el-l-laine R-r-r-rob-b-b-ins-s-son'. My mom used to encourage me not to talk unless it was necessary – she didn't want me to over exert myself, get myself upset, that kind of bull that an embarrassed parent would say. But, when I was in the 3rd grade, I had a really nice teacher. His name was Mr. Munroe. He was new to the school, and rightly a little shocked when he heard how bad my stutter was. At the parent-teacher night he convinced my mom to talk me to a speech therapist he knew from college. He was a nice guy too. He let me call him Dr. Drew, not Dr. Webster. Dr. Drew taught me five vital steps for overcoming my stutter.

Even though I was young, he told me it was important for me to slow down my speech. To pause if I needed to, and remain as relaxed as possible. If I got anxious, upset, excited or angry, my stutter would get worse.

Make the first sound of a word long, or try to. Otherwise, prolong the transition into the sound that follows - more talking slowly.

Dr Drew urged me to admit I had a stutter. He said that if people knew I had a stutter, it would be easier for me to talk to them. I promptly ignored this.

I was supposed to try and think ahead when I was speaking. If I messed up, I wasn't supposed to start again, just to move on. He assured me that if I was scared of a word, and singularly focused on that word, I'd mess it up. I had to think about the whole sentence, and not stress about one word.

The last point was the kicker. I saw Dr. Drew for 18 months, and things improved vastly. It was only if I got severely agitated, that my stammer would return. My mother and father were ecstatic. I wasn't different anymore – and for a few years everything was fantastic. However, when I started middle school, things went downhill. I started to get picked on again, not because I stuttered, but because I spoke slowly, and had to think about what I was saying. I was dubbed a 'dumb blonde' – someone who didn't know words more than three syllables, couldn't walk and talk at the same time, and whose vocabulary only rivaled a 1st grader. So, I broke this last rule. This stated that I shouldn't pick up postponement or substitution habits. I shouldn't forfeit the word I wanted to say because of my stutter, or, do what I did.

Instead of speaking slowly, I'd stall with an 'um'. It worked. I wouldn't stutter, I'd stop before I had to, and use my safe word, 'um'. This habit had followed me all the way through middle school, high school, college and med school. No one had cared. I was the 'Valley Girl on spring break', no one questioned it, and they let it slide because I had blonde hair. But Dr. Karev was calling me out – and I really wanted to tell him. I respected him as my resident, I know he didn't like me, he'd made that clear, but I felt like I owed him honesty. I knew telling him would be following the rules – letting people know you stuttered made talking to them easier. But what resident wants to know that their intern, who 'um'ed' their way through an appendectomy explanation, only did it because they couldn't talk properly. I could just hang a banner with 'Elaine is incompetent' at the front of the hospital, no one would trust me to become a surgeon – I mean what Chief would want their surgeon in the OR asking the nurse for a 's-s-s-scalp-p-p-pel'.

"Um, no reason really, um, Dr. Karev" I said softly. Dr. Karev looked me directly in the eyes, his brow furrowed,

"Look, I don't know what your deal is, but try to sound a little more confident when you're a surgeon. And when you're cleaned up, get some food. And then back to the pit"

I looked down at the floor and nodded as he left the room - how to alienate your resident 101.

So I nibbled on my cookie. The other interns were ignoring me. I'd come into the cafeteria already upset with how Dr. Karev had dismissed me, and seen Louise and Hannah sitting together munching on their Caesar salads. I'd skipped the line and bought a cookie. I began to walk over to them when Nathan and Sam pushed past, then sped over to the girls and took the remaining two seats. Only Sam looked back at me, smirking as he sat, his message clear – I wasn't welcome. I looked around the cafeteria for a free seat at a table, but every other group of interns was less dysfunctional than mine. They all sat together, crowded around, chatting, laughing and gossiping, together. I searched the masses for a halo of red hair, Anne's signal – the signal that there was another Karev intern in here, one that maybe didn't hate me.

I couldn't see Anne anywhere. So I found the first empty table I could, sat down with my cookie, and tried to ignore the interns, residents and family and friends of patients that were staring at the lone blonde in scrubs. I cautiously looked around the crowded cafeteria, trying to observe some dynamic that might help me, and I spied a familiar face.

The worried girl with the chestnut hair from the residents lounge was sitting at a table with her friends – the blonde with blue eyes, the dark guy, and the woman with long curly hair (and what I assumed was an ever present scowl). They were engrossed in conversation, the blonde talking, casually waving her fork as she spoke – obviously describing something.

"_I want to sedate them all" Cristina growled as she slumped down next to Avery who smiled. _(I added a line break here.)

_Meredith Grey rolled her eyes. _"_You don't hate them all, Cristina."_

"_No Mer, I hate them all. They are stupid, incompetent, whiney and annoying. I have a cowboy from Texas who I banned from talking, a George O'Malley – barely made the program -, and two that I swear did it in a supply closet when I sent them to get suture materials to stitch up a bar fight. I hate them," Cristina said finally, stabbing a cherry tomato viciously. _

_Avery sighed. _"_Well at least yours sound fun. I have three Harvard's, and a Yale. They are robots…" he broke off as Lexie scoffed._

"_Not everyone from Harvard is a robot Jackson."_

_Avery smiled even wider. _"_Says the girl with the photographic memory – so your intern's don't suck then?"_

_Lexie focused on her salad a little more. _"_They don't suck… exactly. I mean they're inexperienced, so that's a little annoying. And they don't talk to each other, so that's even more annoying. But otherwise they're –"_

"_They suck. Accept it, move on" Cristina interrupted. Turning to Meredith she stuffed a forkful of lettuce in her mouth, crunching nosily. "How bout you, Mer, anyone fun?"_

_Meredith sighed and thought about her interns. _"_There is a guy who did law, then accounting then decided to take his MCAT's, so he's older, but not annoying. There is 'Sassie', her name is Cassandra, but that suits her better. Then I have a dwarf, maybe. Very short person. And then two average interns. They don't say much, they jump when I ask questions and they just want to do a surgery. So, fun."_

_Cristina stared skeptically. _"_They suck Mer. What about Karev – I heard he took one in for an appendectomy. Did they choke?" Cristina asked, looking around the table. It was Lexie that spoke up._

"_I saw Alex earlier this morning. He was booking an OR. He, well, he… he agrees with Cristina – he said his interns suck."_

"_Ha!"_

_Lexie ignored Cristina and continued. _"_He said the one he took in for surgery, Elaine Robinson – she graduated from Minnesota and moved cross-country, - he said she's lucky. She can do sutures, but he's not sure if she can do much more. Apparently she is blonde and says 'um' a lot, including during telling a kid and his mom what was involved in an appendectomy."_

_Meredith nodded as she returned to her salad. _"_Well I'm glad that Alex's intern didn't choke in her first surgery. Maybe it's a sign, a good sign, Cristina."_

_Cristina snorted. _"_Any intern can do an appendectomy. 'Robins-um' was lucky. I agree with Alex. I mean look-" Cristina pointed over Meredith's shoulder. Lexie and Meredith turned, their eyes following her finger. There was a lonely-looking girl in scrubs, breaking apart a chocolate chip cookie. "That has to be her. Lonely. Isolated. Hated by fellow interns. She won't last the rest of the week"_

"_Be nice,Cristina" Meredith chided. "She might just choose to eat alone. She just assisted in her first surgery. She might be taking that in"_

"_No, no, I agree with Yang. The other's hated" Jackson commented._

_Lexie frowned. _"_No. Meredith is right. She's taking it in. She seems nice. She'd sit with the others. She's nice."_

"_Oh come on! Will you two stop being so naïve, Mer – we hated the other interns. It's a competition they hate her. I hated George when he got the first surgery" Cristina exclaimed._

_Meredith turned around again looking at the lone intern. She did seem sad; shoulder's slumped, eyes down, not eating the cookie she picked at._

"_Well, that's not fair. You shouldn't be hated for getting surgery." Meredith said simply. "We became friends Cristina. You, me, George, Izzie and Alex. They should be friends."_

"_I heard my name – whose gonna be friends?" Everyone turned to see Alex pulling up a chair and setting down his tray. Cristina rolled her eyes and stabbed her salad again. Your interns suck."_

_Alex smiled. _"_Yeah. They do."_

_Lexie frowned at Cristina again. _"_But Alex, Robinson did a good job didn't she?"_

_Alex scoffed as he opened his soda. _"_She stitched up the kids abdomen. She didn't do anything difficult Lexie. I sent her back to the Pit anyway. She 'um's' a lot."_

"_Oh oh!" Cristina exclaimed. "I came up with the perfect nickname: 'Robins-um'! What do you think?"_

_Alex chuckled as he swirled around his food with his fork. _"_That's good, it's accurate."_

I really wish that I hadn't gotten up and gone to apologize to Dr. Karev. I wanted to tell him about my stutter – at least then I'd have one person on my side, even if the Nathans, Sams, Hannahs, and Louises of the hospital wouldn't talk to me. Because if I hadn't, I wouldn't have heard what they were talking about. I wouldn't have heard my name, my particular idiosyncrasy, and the fun the resident's were having ridiculing me about it. And then, I wouldn't have done the only thing I could think of – run away, back to the locker room, sat in a corner and cried; my chocolate chip cookie forgotten on the ground next to me.

"_Shit" Alex swore as he saw Elaine stop a few feet from the table. He hadn't noticed her earlier – why'd she have to come over?_

"_What is it?" Meredith asked, looking with concern at Alex. Alex just nodded in the direction of Elaine. Meredith, Cristina, Lexie and Jackson all looked to see Elaine run._

"_Thanks, Yang" Alex growled as he abandoned his lunch and followed Elaine._

"_Since when did Karev care about interns?" Cristina asked, taking another mouthful of salad._


	3. Chapter 3

_Alex jogged down the empty hallway, trying to think where on earth that damn intern had gone. Where would an intern go, on their first day at Seattle Grace, if they were upset? She'd been sitting alone at lunch; it wasn't like she had a Meredith or Cristina to go and cry to. Reaching the end of the hall, Alex saw Dr. Webber at the OR board, scanning the schedule of today's surgeries. Crap. If Alex had to admit to the Chief of Surgery he'd made an intern cry, and then lost her – not a good day._

_"Chief?" Alex called._

_Webber turned around. _"_What's up Dr. Karev?"_

_Alex scuffed the linoleum floor with his sneaker._ "_Have you seen my intern, Robinson?"_

"_No Karev I haven't, sorry" Webber replied turning back to the OR board._

_Alex sighed._ "_Thanks" he muttered, and resumed walking down the corridor, running his hand along the wall. Where did Alex hide when he was an intern? The cafeteria, some abandoned hallway, the locker room, the Pit, the basement…- wait: the locker room. It was Robinson's first day, she hadn't figured out where the good hiding spots were; hell not even Shepherd found where Meredith hid when she was pissed. Surely an intern wasn't that talented? She went to where she knew was empty. The intern's were in their 7th hour of their first 48-hour rotation - no one would be sulking in the locker room… yet. They all had jobs to do to please their residents; unless you'd just been insulted by five residents– and then you hid._

_Alex made an abrupt right turn and jogged to the intern's locker room door._

It was nice and dark in the locker room, and quiet as well - the perfect place to cry. Every other intern was having the perfect first day. They'd all made friends, forgotten their nerves and were settling into a rhythm – just like the first day of kindergarten. And just like kindergarten, I didn't want to talk to anybody. I knew I was being juvenile, running away from some bullies and hiding. I shouldn't be upset; I should've laughed it off, and then gone back to the Pit, and prayed for an eternity of solitude doing scut work. But no, I did what I usually did – I ran away. I ran away from St. Cloud when I went to medical school, I ran away from Minnesota to come to Seattle Grace, and now I ran away from Dr. Karev.

_Alex paused before he opened the door, staring at the crappy piece of paper that had 'INTERNS' scrawled on it. What was he doing here? Usually he wouldn't give a crap. Interns sucked – like Cristina said. Why should Alex care if Robinson was upset?_

Because she reminds you of Izzie…

_Alex was taken aback by the little voice inside his head. Elaine did not remind him of Izzie. Elaine was blonde yes, and attractive, and he had called her a Valley Girl, and he had insulted her in front of people. That was drawing a kind of parallel to Izzie. But Izzie hadn't put up with his crap. Izzie had fired back – Elaine ran away. Why the hell did Alex care?_

I head the door open and tentatively looked up. Dr. Karev was looking around the empty room, his eyes squinting in the dim light. He moved into the room and let the door close, still scanning, and then he saw me. He rubbed his face, and slowly walked over to where I sat.

_She was sitting in the corner. Knees held tight to her chest, her cheeks wet with tears and a cookie next to her foot. Crap._

He slumped down on the ground next to me and sighed.

"Look, intern – sorry, Elaine. I'm sorry about Cristina. She's not very nice," he mumbled.

I didn't know what to say. My resident was sitting next to me, apologizing for the words of another attending.

_Alex felt her eyes on him, and he looked up. Her sad blue eyes just stared. She didn't say anything – just stared._

"It was a stupid nickname," he added.

_Nothing._

"Mine was 'frat boy bitch'"

_A nervous giggle escaped her lips. Finally._

"I got Dr. Evil Spawn too, and then got assigned to a gynecologist."

_Not so nervous laughter anymore._

I couldn't believe what was happening. My resident was joking with me, trying to make me laugh. I wanted to tell him that the nickname was nothing, just the last straw.

_She looked like she was about to say something, and then she just swallowed. Alex leant his head back against the wall._

He looked defeated. I knew that look. The look my mother gave me when I was a toddler, and she couldn't snap me out of stuttering. The look my teachers gave me when they couldn't make me talk in front of my peers. The look my parents gave me when I told them I was going to medical school. The look they gave me when I told them I was going to Seattle. I knew that look.

_She was staring at her knees. Obviously the conversation was over._

"Well, I've got to get back out there. Just go back to the Pit when you're done" Dr. Karev broke the silence. He slowly got up from next to me and sighed again, and then he slowly started walking to the door.

_Alex realized he couldn't do anymore; she obviously didn't want to talk. Alex resolved to go and bargain with another attending to have her transferred - he had to go and be a doctor, not an intern councilor. He was just about to open the door when..._

"It's n-n-n-n-not because I'm a V-v-v-valley girl" I called out, admitting defeat – following the rules, I wanted it to be easier to talk to Dr. Karev.

He spun around, his face, completely disbelieving.

"What?"

_Alex's head was spinning. Elaine was now kneeling on the floor; her hands in her lap and the corners of her mouth were twitching._

"I'm from, M-M-M-M-Minnesota, I'm n-n-n-not a Valley Girl." (I added a line break here.)

Dr. Karev's face softened. And that was why that rule existed – the understanding that people have, it can precede ridicule or support, but the moment they realize I stutter, it's reassuring.

"Oh. Right, I'm from Iowa" he mumbled.

_She had a stutter. Alex closed the door and walked back over. She sat back down leant against the wall, staring at her sneakers._

"Th-th-th-that's cool" He sat back down on the floor next to me and nodded.

"Yeah: 'The Heartland of America' – hey, we grew up near each other."

_Alex Karev was talking chitchat. Jerk-boy Alex Karev was talking chitchat with a stuttering intern from Minnesota._

"Y-y-y-y-yeah. Next d-d-d-door neighbors" I mumbled into my chest. He was trying, he really was. "I-I-I-I've stuttered since I w-w-w-was f-f-f-f-four" Dr. Karev nodded, and he bit his lip. I kept going, "I s-s-say um b-b-b-because it stalls." I breathed deeply and started."Um, by saying 'um' I stall… um, I stall whatever, um, stutter was going to…um, was going to happen."

'There's my intern'_ Alex thought. She was looking at the ceiling, and there were tears pooling in her eyes. Alex felt, kind of honored. Not many people opened up to Alex – well not brand new interns like this. She was only a baby, she should've been scared of her resident because Alex had been a jerk and said he hated her. But no, this intern was standing up for herself. She wasn't going to let herself be a 'Valley Girl'; she knew what the deal was. She had a stutter, and she'd just set the record straight with Alex._

Told you she reminds you of Izzie.

Shit. I could feel the tears pricking in the corner of my eyes. I shouldn't be crying. Dealing with a crying intern with a stutter is worse than dealing with an intern with a stutter. The sooner I calmed down, the sooner I could talk to Dr. Karev. I wiped my nose with the back of my hand and breathed deeply, counting to ten.

_Alex's mind was racing. What was he going to do? He couldn't transfer her now. That was cruel. He could be a jerk, but not cruel._

One, two – slow down.

_Yang would eat her alive. And then kill Alex._

Three, four – long sounds.

_Lexie wouldn't be able to shut the other's up if they picked on her._

Five, six – he knew I had a stutter. He'd understand.

_She'd be too nervous to admit to Avery she had a stutter – Alex wasn't stupid. He knew Avery was hot._

Seven, eight – think about what you wanted to say, Elaine.

_April would over-compensate and embarrass her._

Nine, ten – no um's.

_She was staying with Alex, then._

"Doctor Karev… Thank-you for finding me … I really do a-p-p-preciate it… I just wanted you to know, I wasn't st-st-stupid."

_She was definitely staying with him._

"I've got a story for you –" Dr. Karev began picking up the cookie from beside my foot. He brushed it off and handed it back to me. "When I was an intern, I gave crap to one of the other interns. I tried to, degrade her, because I didn't understand who she was. And she stood up for herself - and, we became really close friends." Dr. Karev stopped and took a deep, steadying breath – "Point is, don't let anyone give you crap. You know who you are. Don't let anybody else tell you." I nodded. I could tell that story meant a lot to Dr. Karev, I didn't know why, but I'm glad he told me. I knew I'd made the right decision about telling him.

"That's a really nice st-st-story Dr. Karev"

_BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! Alex's pager went off. Elaine jumped, and Alex smiled – jumpy interns. He unclipped it from his belt just as Elaine's pager went off. Alex read the screen;_

ROOM 203 J.N – AWAKE POST-OP

James was awake. My patient was awake! I jumped up immediately and started for the door – and then I remembered Dr. Karev, and the cookie I still had in my hand.

_Alex had watched with a smile as Elaine practically sprinted to the door and then stopped, and turned around._

He was still sitting on the floor with his arms crossed and a grin on his face. I felt myself blushing.

"Yup," he said softly as he got up, "You're definitely a surgeon." He crossed the distance between us and put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently – "Let's go see your patient, Doc."

James was sitting up in bed. He looker super tired, but was talking to his mom, and a guy in a suit and tie – I assumed was his dad – he'd obviously left his meeting. Dr. Karev suddenly nudged me with his elbow. I turned around, and he just nodded towards James.

_For a second Alex thought she was going to cry again. And then she closed he eyes and breathed deeply._

Count to ten Elaine. Let's be a doctor.

"Hi James. I'm Dr. Robinson… from earlier." The three Nowell's looked at me. James grinned at Dr. Karev and waved, Mrs. Nowell looked apprehensive to say the least, and her husband just smiled pleasantly. "How are you feeling?" I asked, walking over to his chart, flipping through, and checking his vitals.

"Sore. And hungry. Am I allowed to have some pizza soon, ma'am?"

I could hear Dr. Karev chuckling from behind me. "Maybe a b-b-bit later. But first… can I have a look at your stitches?" James nodded; I walked over towards the bed and gently lifted up his gown. The area was bruised, and there, clear as day, were my stitches. "That looks, normal James".

He frowned. "But it's all bruised up. Isn't that bad?"

I looked at James' parents and then back at James. "No, it's normal. In a c-c-couple of days, that bruising –" I broke off, gesturing to the same area on myself, "- will be gone. All that will be left is, a s-s-s-small scar –"

"A scar! But scars are bad!" James cried out. His mom began to comfort him as he exclaimed in fear. I bit lip and walked over next to James' bed.

"James, do you want to know something?" I asked gently.

James looked at me with hesitation. "What is it?"

"I had my appendix out too. When I was a l-l-l-little older than you?"

James' eyes widened. "Do you have a scar too?" he asked, his mouth open in anticipation.

"Yeah I do. Wanna see?" James nodded his head vigorously. I gently put the folder down on his bed and carefully pulled down the waistband of my scrubs. Just at the top of my leg, was a small, ¾ inch scar, as thin has a hair. James leant forward and peered at the scar, "See? It's not that scary… Pretty cool, huh?"

James leant back and smiled. "Yeah, pretty cool."

"You're a cool dude James, and b-b-brave." I said picking up my folder, James beamed back at me. "But you're going t-t-to have to be a little, careful for a few weeks… just until your stitches come out. C-c-can you do that for me?"

"Yeah"

"Alrighty, cool" I put my hand up for a high-five, which James met with enthusiasm.

_Alex smiled. Robinson was going to be a good doctor, and if he could manage, she would specialize in Ped's. Arizona was going to love her._


	4. Chapter 4

The third week of being a surgical intern heralded many remarkable events. Elaine went back to speech therapy. She got to perform an orthopedic surgery – under the guidance of Dr. Callie Torres. She hit a boy for the first time since pre-K. And she had her first heart to heart with Meredith Grey. It was a remarkable week for Alex too - for all the same reasons.

***Authors note: Hi, again. These next few chapters were originally supposed to be a separate story on their own - the same story verse, but more like a different episode of the same series. However I was assured by my lovely Beta that the plots work so well together that this fit as additional chapters to the already existing story. Hence, the next few chapters - while the spiel above is explained.**

***Additional important notes: Thank-you to my grammar angel, punctuation saviour and spelling wizard - my gorgeous and patient Beta who somehow manages to follow the scatter-brain plots I present them with.**

_10 Tricks to Help You Get Ahead at Work._

_Easy Updos to Wear With Everything._

_How to be Happy (When You Need a Boost)._

_The Five Little Things That Are Giving You Pimples._

These articles were starting to scare me. It's like if I flipped to the front of my issue of _Cosmopolitan_ I'd find a dedication to Elaine Robinson. Today was my first break from Seattle Grace Mercy West Hospital after practically living there for two weeks - and I was sitting in a waiting room, at a clinic. It was a truly fascinating change in scenery – the only difference was I didn't have to deal with anyone's issues. I was at the Hearing, Speech and Deafness Centre in Seattle.

When I'd told Mary Jane that I was going to the clinic, she'd assured me I was doing the right thing. As my big sister, she told me, she knew me better than anyone else – and she knew that I was a much happier person, and the best version of myself when I wasn't worrying about how I talked. That had encouraged me more than any research I could've done. And she assured me all this while not missing a beat making a decadent cheesecake.

I'd been led to the clinic after some of this - covert research. I'd found that working at a hospital had some unexpected perks:

There weren't any difficult choices about what to wear to work.

The long shifts meant that I could avoid a large percentage of my mother's phone calls asking that I come to my senses and come home to Minnesota; to stop kidding myself: I was a pretty face – not a doctor.

Working at Seattle Grace also meant that I had a multitude of scientific and medical research and journals at my fingertips. I'd poured through them– trying to find the best way to deal with my stutter in the Seattle region. Immediately I'd come across the SpeechEasy. It was a small device, similar to a hearing aid – however, instead of amplifying sound; it allowed me to hear my voice at a slight time delay and at a different pitch. At first the "choral effect", the underlying principle of the device, had thrown me.

"Dr. Karev?"

It'd been a relatively slow day at the hospital and I'd been with Dr. Karev all morning, shadowing him while he did pre and post-operative rounds. Sam and Hannah were in the skills lab, Nathan was in the Pit, Anne was looking after a knee reconstruction – well she was watching as Dr. Torres did the consult for her patient, and Louise was with Dr. Sloane who was about to perform rhinoplasty.

"Yeah?" he answered, without breaking his continuous stride down the hall. I looked down at the chart I was carrying, trying decide the best way to phrase my question.

"Have you ever head of the… 'choral effect'?" I mumbled, looking up hopefully. Unfortunately, I was still only greeted with the back of Dr. Karev's head.

"Nope. What is it?"

"Oh, nothing special… just something I'm looking into, f-f-f-for… for my- speech…" I trailed off.

Dr. Karev stopped and turned. He looked intrigued - which came as a shock.

"Ask Sloane, he's our ENT guy, and he might know about your 'corral effect' " Dr. Karev offered smiling, as he went back to flipping through charts.

I returned the smile, blushing. "It's 'choral effect' – like choir Dr. Karev".

Dr. Karev didn't look up from his paperwork as he muttered, "Like I said, talk to Sloane."

I'd cornered Louise as soon as she'd entered the cafeteria.

"Lou. You have to let me talk to D-D-D-Dr. Sloane… Please." I'd begged, clutching her arm as she walked towards the food. Louise raised her pencil thin eyebrows and looked me from top to bottom with a smirk.

"And what do you want with McSteamy, El?" she questioned.

I sighed. "I have a-a-a question about ENT."

Louise didn't look convinced as she grabbed a lunch tray. "Sure you do El… Well, I've gotta go with him to check up on the patient in about an hour, so grab some lunch with me – and then I'll hook you up," she quipped, grabbing a garden salad. I quickly poked my tongue out before taking a salad for myself. Louise and I both paid and began making our way over to the other Karev interns – we'd pushed two tables side by side in order to all sit together.

Two weeks had done an awful lot for improving our group dynamic. My first surgery had been forgotten as Nathan had scrubbed in on heart surgery with Altman, Hannah had become a favorite of Dr. Torres' for her boundless enthusiasm for fractures and casts, and even Sam had gotten points with Dr. Bailey – she appreciated him not being consumed with 'all that intern nonsense – all caught up in brown nosing your attending' and saw our first bowel resection. My appendectomy was nothing.

"Lou, El – hurry up – Nathan has a McStory" Hannah hissed when we were in earshot - and for Hannah to manage anything quieter than a yell was something of an achievement, so we knew it was a good story. Louise and I shared a smile and sat down either side of Hannah – who was practically bouncing with excitement. Sam was completely ignoring his sandwich in anticipation of Nathan's story, Nathan was munching on his hotdog while grinning – his brown eyes twinkled with the mischief that his story contained, and Anne was reading a book on aneurisms completely disinterested.

"Tell the damn story dude!" Sam exclaimed, thumping his giant fist on the table and causing everyone's food to bounce, which earned him a scowl from Anne.

Nathan sighed, as if heavily burdened by relaying his juicy gossip, and gently lay down his lunch. "Well – " he began, casting his eye around the circle. Sam succumbed to his irritation and kicked Nathan under the table.

"Hurry up!" he hissed as we all laughed at Nathan's pained expression,

"Okay – pants on…" he pouted, moving his chair a few inches further from Sam. "Right – so I saw a certain neurosurgeon and a certain resident, getting friendly in an on-call room…"

"You were watching?" Anne asked, her face screwed up in disgust. Sam began to chuckle and Hannah looked appalled.

Nathan's jaw dropped. "No – I was not watching! I happened to be looking for Dr. Shepherd and – this is the good part…" Nathan reassured us. "The Chief – Dr. Richard Webber—knew where Dr. Shepherd was… The Chief walked in on them!" Nathan finished proudly. Sam and Hannah began to cackle loudly, clutching at their sides, Louise snorted loudly and then began to laugh silently, and I giggled as well, while Anne just rolled her eyes and returned to her book.

"The Chief witnessed McSex and then told you where to find it! Classic!" Sam gasped, as the tables' laughter subsided. This caused a second outbreak of laughter; Louise covered her face as she shook silently with laughter while Nathan ducked under the table.

Hannah was still grinning widely, as she and Sam leant against each other for support when her pager went off. "Shit…" she mumbled, as an instantaneous frown appeared, her full eyebrows furrowed. "My post-op pancreas dude has blood in his pee…"

"Weren't you in the skills lab today?" I asked, picking up a carrot stick from my salad.

Hannah nodded but got up anyway, reattaching her pager to the waistband of her scrubs. "Yeah, but I worked on this guy yesterday; besides it's way better than skills lab."

So I have to go back there by myself?" Sam asked latching onto the back of Hannah's lab coat, pulling her back.

Hannah smiled as she slapped Sam's hand; he released it and began pouting. "Sorry – not really, but bye!" she called out as she jogged towards the cafeteria exit her dark brown curls bouncing. We all waved goodbye, except for Sam who stubbornly remained silent with his arms crossed.

Nathan clapped Sam's enormous shoulder. "Cheer up. Tomorrow you're with Dr. Bailey – and she lurves you!" he teased, jostling Sam. Sam just pouted a bit more as he shrugged off Nathan.

Louise rolled her eyes and tightened her dirt blonde ponytail. "Come on El – I have to do this favor type-thing for you" she stated, grabbing my sleeve pulling me up from the table and began leading me away. My hastily waved goodbye was wasted - Anne was still reading her book about aneurysms, Nathan was still annoying Sam, and Sam was still sulking.

I could hear Dr. Sloane's husky voice talking to a female one. Occasionally I could hear Louise interject, but mostly it was Dr. Sloane talking about preventing infection.

I was sitting outside a VIP room where the rhinoplasty patient was staying. There was fancy wallpaper, select artworks and Egyptian bed linen – this particular patient was a very wealthy – and somewhat vain – businesswoman who was also a generous donor to the hospital. Louise had told me to stay there and she'd bring Sloane straight to me. I'd been sitting outside for a good hour. From what I could hear the female patient was doing a lot of sighing and 'Thank-you-ing' and 'Dr. Sloane – you're my savior," and Sloane seemed very good at the modest doctor routine – for a jock like a plastic surgeon. Although I could tell why Louise liked being on his service: besides the fact he was extremely attractive, she genuinely seemed to have a good time. He didn't ask Louise a barrage of questions like most attendings did to scare interns, and the patient's attention was always on him, especially his female patients. So as an intern, that was a plus: you couldn't get abused for being an intern if you weren't noticed. One person I was nervous about noticing me was Dr. Karev. I'd been shadowing him all morning and I was certain that he'd notice if I was missing and I'd be left with a mountain of scut work as punishment.

"Well you just keep those ice packs on and I'll see you tomorrow Ms. Lockwood," I heard Dr. Sloane say just before I heard squeaky footsteps on the linoleum floor. I jumped up and breathed deeply, nervously touching my pager. Dr. Sloane emerged first, looking down at a chart and completely ignoring me, while Louise came next, gently closing the door. She saw that Dr. Sloane had walked off.

"El – Use your words." she hissed. "Dr. Sloane – excuse me!" she called out.

Dr. Sloane turned abruptly and saw Louise waving him back. He cocked an eyebrow and beckoned her instead. Louise grabbed the cuff of my white coat and dragged me towards Sloane. He looked amused as she pulled me over, Louise squeezing my shoulder tightly for encouragement whilst brandishing a broad grin of her own – I must've looked like a deer caught in headlights. Talk to Sloane, Karev said. He'll explain it, Dr. Karev said. Dr. Karev obviously didn't take into account that Dr. Sloane was very attractive, and that made me nervous, which was just unfortunate for everybody involved.

"Dr. Sloane, this is, Elaine Robinson. Elaine had a very professional medical sort of question to ask you about your ENT thing, didn't you Elaine?" Louise explained, looking expectantly at me.

I was still stunned into silence. Dr. Sloane seemed to be holding back laughter at his exuberant intern and her mute friend.

Louise sighed and her shoulders drooped. "I'll take the scut and wait for you at the nurses station, Dr. Sloane" she said, gently taking the chart and skipping off. I watched her short blonde ponytail swing from side to side and then hesitantly turned to look back at Dr. Sloane.

"So – you're Robinson – the appendectomy girl" he began, clearing his throat as he looked me up and down, waiting for a response of any sort.

"Y-y-y-yes."

Dr. Sloane nodded his head slowly, looking at the ground, "And Dr. McGrath says you have a question about ENT… Considering a specialty already?" he asked, looking up and smiling.

I shook my head. "I, have, just… a question – about… a-a-a-a certain… ENT ph-ph-ph-ph" I sighed heavily and gave up on phenomenon. "I have a q-q-q-question about a term – the 'choral effect'?"

Dr. Sloane had kept his face free of emotion while I'd stuttered and stammered my way through, waiting patiently while I paused and when I'd finished he'd nodded with understanding. "Elaine," he began, ushering me towards the nurse's station where Louise had been pretending not to eavesdrop, "Did you ever stutter during the pledge of allegiance in school?" he asked gently.

I shook my head.

He grinned. "Of course you didn't. That's because everyone speaking, at the same time, the same words creates the "choral effect" you're talking about." Dr. Sloane winked before continuing, "Everyone else speaks differently to you – and I'm not talking about your stutter," he added immediately. "Everyone speaks at a different pitch and tone to you, because we're all individuals, Elaine." He chuckled, winking again. "Even your own voice sounds different when played back on a recording. This "choral effect"—many voices converging to one – act as a backbone for you, the stutterer, and you don't stutter." He finished as we arrived at the station; Louise was on the floor on the other side, 'looking for her pen'.

I smiled broadly at Dr. Sloane; he certainly made you feel comfortable. "Thanks Dr. Sloane…. You're certainly the prof-f-f-f-fessional," I added blushing.

Sloane patted me on the back, laughing. "That's why I get paid the big bucks. Dr. McGrath? I'm going – you coming?"

Louise suddenly emerged from under the desk with her stupid grin. "Sure sir."

Sloane winked goodbye and walked off. Louise scrambled out from under the desk and waved to me, then ran after him. I was left alone – and then my pager went off.

Great.

*** Authors endnote - Hullo. Thank-you for reading this far, but please don't stop. This chapter was challenging to write, and I do think that the upcoming ones will require me to work hard, but I'm looking forward to developing these characters in a way I'm happy with. I'm working on a Callie and Mark conversation, massive trauma and an Elaine explosion - some small spoilers, so stay tuned. Also - five seconds of your time to add a review would be appreciated, I adore any feedback you have.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Authors Note:**

**Hullo there. Here is the latest installment. Massive shout out to my wonderful Beta – who despite sickness and massive workload has managed to do me the honor of creating a readable story out of the jumble I send through.**

**Please do me the favor of taking the five seconds of a review?**

When I arrived at the room number I'd been paged, I did a double take when I found a smiling Dr. Torres instead of finding an infuriated Karev. My face betrayed my confusion as Dr. Torres' flashed her pearly whites and waved me closer.

"Hi Robinson. Don't look so sad, I went through two interns to get to you. You just got front row seats to a knee reconstruction," Dr. Torres explained as I entered the room. There was a gangly teenage boy arguing with two other younger-looking boys, while a man and a woman took separate phone calls. An elderly gentleman lay quietly in the hospital bed.

Dr. Torres coughed loudly, and gave an expectant smile. Everyone except the patient jumped, having been engrossed in his or her own activities. Both the man and the woman muttered unintelligible things into their phones and hung up, while the three boys ignored each other.

Dr. Torres stepped forward."As I was saying earlier before we were interrupted"— here Dr. Torres paused and both the man and woman shuffled uncomfortably—"Mr. Parish, your knee reconstruction is scheduled for this afternoon"

The elderly gentlemen she was addressing simply stared at the wall.

"We've been through the procedure. I just wanted you to meet Dr. Robinson; she'll be scrubbing in on your surgery as my intern –"

"Then she isn't qualified" the teenager interrupted, scowling at Dr. Torres.

Dr. Torres' smile transformed to a smirk and I got the feeling this wasn't the first time she and Acne-face had clashed.

"Well she's finished high school, so she's already on up on you," she quipped, turning to the woman—who was scowling at the teenager whom I assumed was her son. "Now Mrs. Graham, did you, or any of your sons"—Dr. Torres pursed her lips in said sons direction—"have any last questions about your fathers surgery?"

The woman shook her head and instead began disciplining her son, which caused the other two boys to begin quarrelling. The gentleman began to intervene, bargaining with the younger two to behave.

Dr. Torres rolled her eyes at the ruckus and jerked her head towards the door.

"Sorry about that," she said after we left. "They're great fun – the old guy's about a hundred and his grandkid is a smart ass. You took it better than the redhead though," Dr. Torres mused as she walked down the corridor, hands in her pockets.

I smothered my laughter. "Anne is very serious…" I offered.

Dr. Torres chuckled. "Yeah – a real downer. I like Albert though – you're lucky she was busy. Damn general surgery complications stealing my interns. And Shepherd…" Dr. Torres mumbled as she turned the corner.

"Dr. Shepherd?" I asked; confused by what part he played. I was also slightly worried that Nathan had gotten himself in trouble for being an idle gossip– he had been in the Pit, which was where Dr. Karev usually grabbed the spare interns. However, if Dr. Shepherd had heard that Nathan had a loose mouth, he may be buried alive somewhere.

"That redhead – Jones," Dr. Torres began, interrupting my worrying, "she's been stalking Neuro cases while she was supposed to be running labs for me. Shepherd had caught her stealing charts and decided she was talented. So she's standing in the background while he clips aneurisms" she finished irritably, reaching out to take a marker from the board. I immediately found her name and watched as she rubbed out 'Jones' and replaced it with 'Robinson'.

I felt a burst of pride – twice I'd been on that board. I'd been a real surgeon twice.

"What were you doing anyway? Karev just gave you to me?" Dr. Torres asked as she finished writing.

I didn't know how to phrase it. "I was.. um, having lunch…" I mumbled.

Dr. Torres turned with a grin on her face. "That's funny because Karev said you'd been tailing him all morning and then disappeared?" she teased.

I looked guiltily at the ground and heard her chuckle. "Your resident knows everything. What were you doing getting a consult from Sloane; whose chart did you steal?"

I stared at my purple sneakers and then at her white ones. "No one's. I sw-w-w-wear," I added as Dr. Torres scoffed. She began walking away from the board back towards the nurse's station.

"I had an ENT q-q-q-question – about speech therapy…" The statement burst out while I was still staring at the ground. I saw her feet stop and she seemed to hesitate before responding.

"Oh. Well, okay. Anyway, you can prep Mr. Parish for surgery, and I will see you at 2.00 pm for your lucky break!" Dr. Torres said, smiling awkwardly as she walked away.

I was left in the hallway listening to the chorus of arguments that were still occurring in Mr. Parish's room. Oh joy.

"_Mark!" Callie exclaimed as she saw Sloan round the corner. Sloan looked up from the text message he'd been composing__ (__dirty private flirting with Lexie) and smiled as Callie jogged towards him._

"_Hey Torres__. F__un morning with the family from hell?" he quipped, slipping his phone into his coat pocket._

_Callie smirked__.__ "Yeah, the three stooges are always fun__,__" she muttered as __they__ fell in step together, continuing down the corridor__, __Callie on her way to the OR __and __Mark __anywhere that would take him__ as far away from his slightly stalker-ish VIP patient as he could._

_Callie broke the silence. _"_By the way__, did__ an intern ask you an ENT question this morning?" __she__ asked innocently, surveying Mark __whose face remained blank__. "Yeah I did… how did you know?" _

"_What's yours is now mine," Callie said__,__ smiling as Mark raised a curious brow__.__ "The stutterer was Karev's scut monkey and I needed an extra pair of hands__,__" __she added__._

_Realization spread across Mark's handsome face__,__ "She's precious__,__" __h__e stated simply. _

_Callie smiled at __him. Defending__ an intern's honor __was a first for him__. _

_"She said I was a professional. I like her__," he__ surmised._

"_So do I. So bright and shiny and doe eyed__. T__hey all are. A very good bunch this year__,__" Callie mused thoughtfully__. __Mark __nodded__ in agreement stroking his chin__. _"_I have um…" __he__ paused, struggling to remember a name, snapping his fingers__.__ "Uh - a blonde on my service. Smart, pretty and funny."_

"_I had Albert – you want her. Hannah Albert. Exploding with enthusiasm, and praise. She is all green eyes and curls. She will worship you__,__" Callie said wistfully. _

_Mark __smirked._

"_What?" __she__ exclaimed._

_Mark chuckled, "Easy tiger." _

_Callie playfully shoved Mark__. _"_This is not another __'__smoking intern__'__ incident. Besides__,__ you have __L__ittle Grey and I have Arizona." _

"_Yeah. I'm glad I broke the __'__look but don't touch__'__ rule" Mark __agreed__. Callie smiled fondly at the memory as she and Mark emerged into the bustl__e of the__ surgical floor nurses__'__ station._

"_Anyway,__ why was the intern asking you professional ENT questions? Do we have a baby plastic surgeon? Because I definitely have a baby __O__rtho__,__" Callie __said__, __abandoning her reminiscences, __returning to the __original__ conversation._

_Mark __turned__ his gaze to a pile of charts and began to flip through the topmost one__. _"_No, no__. W__asn't that kind of question__,__" Mark responded, continuing to flick through the chart, not meeting __her eyes__. _

_Callie rolled her eyes__. _"_Then what kind of question was it? Karev said he didn't need the opinion." _

_Mark stopped reading the chart __and looked at Callie with confusion, forgetting__ all about the skin graft he'd been visualizing__. _"_What does Karev have to do with the intern fixing her stutter?" _

_Callie stopped__, __realization swe__eping__ over her. Her jaw dropped a little__. _"_Oh… it was a personal question. Right….__" she murmured. "__Did you know you are an excellent gossip?" _

_Mark's own jaw dropped__. _"_So you're snooping__!__" _

_Callie grinned, grabbing a chart of her own so she didn't have to look at Mark__,__ who was doing his best to look scandalized that __she__ had tricked him __into telling __something shared in confidence._

"_I'm not snooping. It's not my fault __interns__ blush when they talk about you__,__" Callie countered__,__ chancing a glance at Mark__,__ who was grinning broadly._

"_She was blushing?" __he__ asked__,__ chuckling._

_Callie sighed put__ting__ down the chart __and__ lowering her voice as April Kepner rushed past with a gaggle of interns__. __"It was cute. She couldn't get any redder."_

"_This calls for an experiment__,__" Mark __declared__._

"_No!" Callie interjected__,__ gently slapping Mark's arm again__.__ "You just leave the __interns__ alone. I have to do surgery with her this afternoon. And I don't want her to be too busy blushing __over__ Mark Sloan and accidently amputate a ninety-year old__s__ limb." _

_Mark nodded and picked up his chart once more __when__ his pager began to beep._ "_Such a fragile thing__;__ she shouldn't be cracking bones. She should be doing __blepharoplasty with me__,__" __h__e muttered__, looking__ at the page._

"_Hey! Did you not hear what I just said?" Callie scolded as Arizona rounded the corner, her blue eyes briefly me__eting__ Callie's __before__ she entered an on-call room without so much as a second glance._

"_Oh I heard. I'm just keenly advocating __for __my specialty__,__" Mark quipped, defending __plastics, but__ Callie wasn't really listening __anymore.____S__he __was busy __fumbl__ing__ to remove her phone from her lab coat pocket__._

"_What the hell even is a blah-roar-oh-plasty?" Callie asked __flicking__ through her texts to find Arizona's __number, but__ before she could find it an alert appeared on the screen__:_

1 New Message: Arizona

_Callie immediately opened it__._

"_If you're going to insult me at least learn my __surgeries: simple__ eyelid surgery for old ladies__,__" Mark explained while Callie read the text__._

I've got a minute – do you? ;-)

_Callie immediately piled her charts back up on the nurse's station and thrust her phone back into her pocket__. _"_Yeah... Whatever. I'm going to go and chop tendons, do nerve grafts and not embarrass interns." Callie said hurriedly, waving to Mark and bustling off to the on-call room. _

_Mark watched__,__ grinning__,__ as Callie undid her ponytail before she opened the door__._

"_Play nice. Grab a drink later?"_

_As if he didn't know what she was doing._

"Elaine Robinson."

The sound of my name being called interrupted the quiet hum of the fish tank in the waiting room of the Hearing, Speech and Deafness Centre. I quickly shoved _Cosmopolitan_ in my bag and tried to look astute as I stood up. An elderly gentleman stood outside an office door, an empty manila folder in one hand and an appointment card in the other. He smiled expectantly at me and ushered me through the door.

I looked cautiously around the office as I took a seat in the plush Edwardian leather armchair, which I was pretty sure cost more than my car. The walls were decorated with certificates of achievement and qualification, and I spotted his doctorate majestically framed near the window.

He sat down in an equally luxurious armchair opposite mine, a desk to his right.

"Hello Elaine, I'm Dr. Benjamin Holland. I believe you're after some help with stuttering?" He sounded like someone who thought stuttering was like a cold: some antibiotics and patience and it was gone. I already didn't like him.

"Yeah, I suppose you could say that," I mumbled, lowering my gaze to the deep emerald carpet. I remembered feeling the same way at speech therapy when I was five, at least for a little while.

"Let's start with your job. What do you do?" Dr. Holland asked, moving on.

I glanced up and frowned. "Excuse me?"

He looked up from his notes and gently reiterated, "Your job, what-"

"No, like. I realize you're the professional, b-b-but that's not usually the f-f-first question speech therapists ask," I interrupted.

He lowered his pen and paper onto his desk and set both hands down, smiling gently at me. Classic speech therapist move – don't make the dummy feel like a dummy.

"How long has it been since your last speech therapy session?" he asked.

I leant back a little further in the armchair and readjusted my watch. "I was eleven…"

"Did you have a job at eleven?"

All right smart-ass, I thought. "No, obviously –"

"See, you've grown as a person," he interrupted, picking up his pen again and fiddled with it. "As a child we ask you what grade you're in, as an adult, what profession."

"Oh. Well. Sorry. I'm a s-s-surgical intern," I muttered. Elaine Robinson: picking fights with someone who was trying to help, I thought glumly. That wasn't out of character or anything.

"Congratulations! That is very impressive. At Seattle Grace?" he asked, genuinely interested.

"Yeah, actually."

He smiled and leaned forward, gently pointing his pen at me. "The clinic quite often refers patients to your ENT specialist, Mark Sloan. Have you met him?"

I smiled broadly for the first time since meeting Dr. Holland. "Yeah. I've met Dr. Sloan."

He nodded; somewhat glad the hostile surgical intern had disappeared. "He's very good at what he does. The clinic is honored to have him as an associate. However, enough about Mark Sloan – how long have you been at Seattle Grace?"

"It's my third week," I answered nervously.

"Oh, so you are fresh out of medical school. Where did you go?"

"The University of Minnesota."

"You're migratory, then. I myself went to Utah, not so far away. What inspired you to move?"

Damn. Loaded question.

"New experience. My s-s-s-sister lives here and, yeah..." I trailed off pathetically.

"Fair enough," Dr. Holland agreed. "Getting away from home is sometimes the best thing you can do for your career. I'm assuming you grew up in Minnesota?"

"Yeah. Saint Cloud actually." I turned my attention back to the floor again – talking about Saint Cloud wasn't my strong suit— watchingthe toe of my brown leather boot stub the carpet.

"The Granite City of our country. You lived there your whole life?"

"Yeah. Until I started m-m-m-med school."

"Was there anything that inspired that decision?"

"Uh – there is no med school in S-S-Saint Cloud…" I answered hesitantly, glancing up at the doctor, who chuckled.

"I meant your decision to go to medical school." Right, of course.

"Oh. Um, I guess I wanted to make people feel better," I answered pathetically, fiddling with my necklace, fingers softly caressing the cross pendant.

"That is a very noble pursuit. And are you finding that being a surgical intern has helped with that?"

I decided to do him the courtesy of giving him an honest answer. I looked him in the eye and let the wall come down again.

"Well, yeah. People look to you f-f-f-for help. You're their chance to feel better. And you d-d-d-do what you can. That's why I'm h-h-here, really – at the clinic. I suppose…" I trailed off, not sure what to say next.

"To do what you can?" he prompted.

"To make the people I treat feel better," I stated simply. His brown eyes locked on mine, and he wore a somber expression.

"Indeed." The office was quiet for a minute. It wasn't an awkward moment, though. We'd just had a breakthrough. An understanding.

_Four days later: _I was waiting for the elevator on the psychiatric floor, repeatedly pressing the down button. The psych floor freaked me out. I knew as a medical professional it shouldn't, but it did. One of the admitted bi-polar patients had minutes ago attempted to stab his nurse with the broken handle of his water jug. When threatened with a concoction of sedatives unless he let go, the patient had attempted to reason, insisting his 'weapon' was not sharp. The result had been a ten-centimeter laceration to the patient's forearm. Immediately the Pit had been paged to send an intern up to do sutures, and I just had to be that lucky one. Thankfully the incision hadn't damaged any major veins or nerves and sutures had been all I had to do; the patient had screamed profanities upon my entrance while I talked to his doctor, and had then been sedated. Once I was finished I'd grabbed the tray of instruments I'd been using and had run to the elevator, ignoring the calls of thanks from members of the psych team. I could hear various threats being shouted across the floor, hysterical crying and demented laughter, and I wasn't used to it. The hustle and bustle of the surgical floor was different – I was able to control those emotions by practicing the medicine I knew. On the psych floor, I was a fish out of water.

Finally the elevator came.

"Robinson! Where the hell have you been? I've been paging you!" Alex Karev shouted at me gruffly. I'd only just stepped off the elevator and was making my way back to the Pit when I heard him. I turned and saw him storming down the corridor. I grasped at my hip, hoping to find my pager, and only felt the fabric of my scrubs.

Shit.

I'd taken it off while I was doing sutures and set it on the patient's bed. If I hadn't been so eager to leave the psych floor I would've realized I'd left the damn thing there. Perfect surgical intern: leaving their pager lying around on the psych floor. I could envisage the anarchy the false alarms would cause if that guy figured out how to use it.

"Dr. Karev – I'm so s-s-s-sorry, I was busy, on a c-c-c-consult on the psych floor –"

"Whoa- " Dr. Karev interrupted, raising his hand, frowning. "A consult?"

I nodded meekly. "Yeah, some g-g-g-guy cut himself and needed stitches. They p-p-p-paged the P-P-Pit…" I mumbled.

"Whatever. When I page you, you answer at a freakin' run," Dr. Karev said, sighing. "Now come on; trauma is about to roll in" He brushed past and I was left to catch up, apologies caught in my throat.

All six of us were waiting outside for the ambulances. Of course, being Seattle, it was raining. Sam was standing with his arms folded and his eyes closed – I wasn't sure whether he was nearly asleep or just silently fuming; being Sam I assumed the latter. Hannah's brown curls were piled into a sopping bun on the top of her head and I watched as raindrops ran from her hairline down her immaculately made up face – although she was oblivious to this, waiting patiently for the ambulance to arrive. Louise was profusely wiping the lenses of her glasses, desperately trying to keep her vision unimpaired.

"McGrath! Loose the glasses till we're inside." Dr. Karev snapped. Louise nodded quickly, folding up her red glasses and shoving them into her pocket. The sirens suddenly became audible and a speeding ambulance came to a halt in front of us. The back doors burst open and Dr. Karev quickly pushed past to collect a clipboard from one of the paramedics,

"What's going on?" he asked, watching as a middle aged man was rolled out of the ambulance on the gurney, a paramedic flagging each side while a third spoke to Dr. Karev.

"Reggie Dawe, 46 year old male, GWS to the abdomen, epigastrium region. Bleeding was controlled in the field. He's conscious and aware, breathing with the assistance of an oxygen mask, cross-matched with six units of B+, but you'll need to start another soon. We've started two trauma lines, and his BP is 134/85 but still on the rise, and his other vitals are OK." The paramedic's spiel ended, leaving all six of us speechless. Dr. Karev, however, had taken this all in as if nothing was wrong. A man had been shot and he had looked like it was the most normal thing in the world. A man had been _shot__. _I couldn't understand.

"Excuse me – you s-s-s-s-said he was shot. How?" I asked one of the paramedics, running to keep up with the gurney.

She looked at me with a neutral expression. "A hunting accident. He was shot with a rifle - .30-30 caliber. He's lucky to be alive – it should've blown his guts apart," she told me.

I heard gagging and then a splatter. Dr. Karev, the gurney and I stopped and turned to see Nathan doubled over, a pile of vomit on the ground, the front of his scrubs and Sam's shoes.

"For God's sake Frasier! Get the hell out of here – locker room, now!" Dr. Karev yelled, turning his attention back to the man on the gurney. I stood still as Nathan stumbled past me, his skin pale and clammy. I looked over at the others. Anne had sprinted over to Dr. Karev as soon as Nathan had left, hovering and awaiting instruction. Sam had his eyes closed again and was biting his lip as he breathed deeply. Louise caught my gaze and jogged over.

"Hannah's got him, hurry!" she exclaimed moving past me to Dr. Karev. I nodded and followed.

In the trauma room, Dr. Karev was inspecting the gauze padding and bandaging the paramedics had applied.

"Mr. Dawe, I'm Dr. Karev and I'm going to be looking after you", he said gently_._ Reggie was wide eyed and looked pale. No surprise, he'd just been shot; of course he was freaked. "Mr. Dawe, I'm going to need to check your wound and then we can start fixing you up, OK?" Dr. Karev asked.

Reggie nodded, obviously terrified. Anne had begun a chart, hastily scribbling down the paramedic's information.

"Robinson, here now. Inspect the wound. McGrath, ring the police."

"The police, Dr. Karev?" Louise asked hesitantly as she replaced her glasses.

Dr. Karev frowned. "Yes, the police. It's protocol for all gunshot wounds. Don't you know that?" he demanded.

Louise began to explain herself but was cut off. "I don't care why you're a moron – just do it! And page Bailey!" he shouted as Louise dashed away, crashing past Sam on her way out. Hannah had coaxed him back into the ER and was looking nervously at Dr. Karev.

"Robinson, I want you to peel back the dressing quickly and then immediately apply pressure again. We want to inspect the entry wound, and then the exit wound – and don't be slow" he added pointedly as I began to gently peel the bandage. "Now, Albert, as this is an abdominal wound, what are we concerned with?" Dr. Karev questioned.

Hannah stepped closer to the gurney. She hesitated, but immediately recovered. "A wound to the abdomen, may mean structural damage to multiple organs; stomach, intestines, cecum and appendix, liver, gallbladder and pancreas, the kidneys and spleen – while anything from the L1-L5 vertebrae could have been damaged," Hannah recited, pointing to the various areas on the patient.

Dr. Karev didn't look impressed. "That's nice you know your anatomy, but what are we actually worried about. Hunter?" he asked coldly. Hannah looked heartbroken but just bit her lip.

Sam glared at Dr. Karev. "She just said we were worried about structural damage," he growled, folding his arms.

Dr. Karev smirked. "Tough guy huh? You're a joke. I don't need you. Go and find Dr. Frasier and tell him to grow up. Then you two can finish my pre and post-op and discharges. Stay away from the O.R's"

Sam stormed away, shaking off a comforting hand from Hannah. The only one's left was Anne hiding behind a chart, Hannah staring at the ground and me, gently manipulating the bandages.

"We're worried about s-s-s-specific structural d-d-damage aren't we?" I began.

Dr. Karev turned to me with an eyebrow raised. "Yeah. Damage. That's right," he grunted, shooing my hands as he began to inspect the wound himself. I took a breath and began again.

"Like a p-p-p-perforated bowel, a-a-a-a pre-renal and intrinsic acute k-k-k-kidney injury, ruptured s-s-s-s-spleen, paralysis and a whole bunch of other stuff."

Dr. Karev looked up at Hannah from inspecting the wound. "Yeah – that 'stuff', Robinson. Albert, check if X-ray and CT are backed up – fix it if it is. Tell them I have a GSW and I want priority. Go!" he ordered.

I watched as Hannah took off towards X-ray, running strangely. She looked stupid trying to look pretty and run at the same time, but that was Hannah – trying to look pretty with sopping curls plastered to her face.

"Robinson – last man standing. What is our treatment plan for Mr. Dawe?" Dr. Karev questioned, his frown still ever present.

"Rule out the s-s-s-stuff I mentioned…" I began, trying to recall anything about gunshot wounds, "We need to take a… take a- um, an AP, and uh –"

"Nope. Slow down and start from the beginning. Do you know the trajectory of the bullet? The surrounding environment when this happened? No? Start there," Dr. Karev interrupted.

Anne stepped forward. "The patient was hunting in the woods with his father and brother in law. He wandered away from the group, slipped; his brother in law mistook the movement for game, and, as Mr. Dawe was shrouded by foliage, shot at him. Mr. Dawe was shot at a range of approximately 210ft," Anne relayed in monotone.

Dr. Karev raised his eyebrows and nodded at me. "That's the info I need, Robinson. Jones, which organs are we most worried about?"

"The small bowl Dr. Karev – and the colon, as the wound is in the epigastrium region," Anne answered, subtly pushing past me and effectively blocking my access to the gurney.

"Correct. Now, Robinson,"—Dr. Karev addressed me again as I hovered in the doorway, hesitant to stay; I'd screwed up, which meant running errands and letting Anne take point on this—"you were so excited about tests – which ones are necessary?"

I took the opportunity to grin at Dr. Karev – he was giving me a second chance. I hadn't been sent packing for screwing up yet. I stepped forward confidently, assisting as Dr. Karev and the nurses began connecting leads.

"We need AP and lateral x-rays, above and b-b-below the injury sight. A CT scan is also necessary to t-t-t-track trajectory, find f-f-f-free air, fluid or b-b-bullet fragments."

I heard a snicker and watched as Anne brought the patients chart up to cover her mouth.

"We also need to monitor hemoglobin, and, um, white-cell count, to ensure infection from the - from the, environmental s-s-s-surrounds hasn't occurred. And of course the vitals need to be m-m-m-monitored – blood gases, CXR and ECG," I recited. I knew what to do – screw Anne and whatever advantage she thought she had. So I stuttered. Big deal. It'd only taken a couple of days for my whole intern class to figure it out. They soon stopped cracking jokes when they realized it wasn't pathological. I was capable of speaking normally. So screw Anne and the fact she thought she had me beat because I was nervous.

"We'll also need to do a f-f-f-full exploratory laparotomy – and fasciotomy t-t-t-to excavate any foreign material or dead tissue. For an injury of this intensity p-p-p-p-primary sutures are usually delayed and instead c-c-completed within three to five days".

Dr. Karev had continued a primary examination of the patient while I rattled off GSW protocol. When I finished he looked first at myself and then at Anne. "Jones, go and get two more units of B+. Now!" he exclaimed.

Anne froze momentarily. I gave a soft sigh of relief. Last intern left standing – hallelujah.


End file.
